


if i tell you i miss you, if i tell you i'm having a hard time.

by orphan_account



Series: can’t live without you [5]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Gen, M/M, and hendery is their kid, i can't believe i did this in under an hour and thirty minutes, i listened to youngjae ONCE and now life is bleak, inspired from call button by ARS and jpraize, kunten angst, kunten are divorced (or at the very least split up), me and kay talked about this once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 19:13:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19179655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: He’d thought, back then, that they were forever.But he’s learning now that they really weren’t..or: maybe tomorrow, he'd love him less than he does today.





	if i tell you i miss you, if i tell you i'm having a hard time.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mintkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mintkey/gifts).



> do urselves a favor and don't listen to all button while reading this just don't do that to yourself
> 
> (title from: call button - ARS (got7 youngjae) & j-praize
> 
> PS: kay, i love u buddy

The only thing that had belonged to Ten that Kun brings to his new apartment is their wedding picture.

 

It used to sit on the nightstand in their bedroom, next to the picture of three year old Hendery attempting to eat cereal with a fork. Ten insisted they keep it there because _I like seeing your pretty face,_ and as always, Kun had let him. It stayed there for seven years, occasionally getting knocked over by a clumsy Hendery crawling into bed with them and occasionally by a clumsy Kun while reaching for his alarm in the mornings. Kun took it on a whim -- he’d been gathering the last of his books into a box when he’d noticed that it was still there, exactly where it should be, and he’d picked it up, placed it neatly on the pile of books he’d been meaning to carry outside, and then taken it with him. He’d never asked Ten if it was okay with him, never asked if he’d like to keep it.

 

A bitter, bruised part of him, the part that had burnt like a match thrown in gasoline when Ten had squeezed his shoulder and asked him if he’d be okay, thinks that maybe Ten wouldn’t want it back. He did ask for the split, so maybe he didn’t care as much as Kun thought he did.

 

Now, it’s sitting on the nightstand by Kun’s bed, next to the picture of eight year old Hendery holding his first arcade plushie. It’s the exact same as it looked for the past seven years. Twenty three year old Ten, in a sharp, black tux, grinning like the happiest man on earth while he throws an arm around Kun’s shoulders and pulls him close enough for their cheeks to touch. Twenty three year old Kun, mid-laugh, dimples and all, letting himself be pulled along. He can remember, even seven years later, the way Ten’s arm had felt around his neck, the way he’d sounded like he was on top of the world when he laughed and said, “Say cheese, baby.”

 

He’d thought, back then, that they were forever.

 

But he’s learning now that they really weren’t.

 

“Hey,” Ten says. Even over the phone, seven kilometers and a river in between them, his voice is beautiful. It reminds Kun of all the nights he used to call him when he’d been in China, sleepy and tired and mumbling _but I want to talk to you, baby,_ over and over again until Kun stopped nagging him to go to sleep. The voice is familiar, but the feeling of it never will be. “How are you?”

 

Kun thinks of how it had felt like claws had torn a gaping hole in his chest and pulled his heart straight out when he’d turned to look back at what had been _their_ house one last time, thinks of how alone he’d felt for the first time in seven years standing in the room he’d shared with Ten, thinks of how he’d fallen asleep wishing he could turn back in time and fix everything the last time he’d held Ten in his arms while Ten cried and apologized like it was his fault that he couldn’t bring himself to love Kun the same way he used to. He thinks of how it had felt like there was a knife in his dented heart that was being twisted over and over again when Hendery had asked if they really didn’t love each other anymore.

 

Then he thinks of how stricken Ten had looked when he’d said he’d move out, thinks of how he’d heard him crying when he’d come back one day, thinks of how he’d squeezed his shoulder and asked if Kun would be okay, thinks of how sad he’d looked watching Kun smile and tell him that he’d be fine, eventually. It doesn’t matter if his own heart is broken beyond repair or that he probably won’t sleep tonight because he misses Ten’s hand in his or that it feels _wrong_ to be without him. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words and tell him the truth because the truth is ugly and Kun wants to protect Ten from that for as long as he can.

 

“I’m fine,” he says, and desperately hopes Ten can’t hear the obvious lie in it. There’s a little more honesty when he says, “I hope you are too.”

 

If Kun closes his eyes, he can almost picture Ten sitting by the kitchen counter. His back will be hunched, because although Kun tells him it’s a bad habit and that he’ll suffer later, he never fucking listens anyway. He’ll be watching the city beyond the window, a hand tucked under his chin while the other holds the phone up to his ear. The city lights will shine in his eyes like they belong there. He’ll still be as beautiful as he was the day Kun realized that he was in love with him, still as beautiful as he was when he’d asked Kun if he wanted to marry him.

 

Kun turns the frame away so unassuming, happy Kun with the world’s most beautiful husband and seven years of amazing memories can’t see what becomes of his hopeful future.

  
_Maybe tomorrow,_ he thinks, closing his eyes when Ten starts talking about Hendery and how he said he’d missed his dad again, _maybe tomorrow I’ll love you less than I do today, and it'll be easier to say goodbye._

**Author's Note:**

> twt is @yellowsannie pls come say hi


End file.
